Watching Glass Shatter E-Book

James J. Cudney

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After 40 years of marriage, Olivia's husband unexpectedly passes away. But when Ben's will reveals a life-altering secret, she suffers a blow no widow should ever experience.

Olivia learns that she gave birth to a baby who later died in the nursery. Instead of telling his wife what happened, Ben switched the child with another. And as if that's not enough, Ben's will doesn't reveal which of their five sons is truly not hers.

Olivia visits each of her sons to share a final connection before facing the truth that will change their family, and discovers that each of them has been harboring a painful secret, just like their father. But will the secrets destroy their family, or bring them closer together?

Leseprobe

Watching Glass Shatter

James J. Cudney

Copyright (C) 2017 James J. Cudney

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgments

Writing a book is not an achievement an individual person can do on his or her own. There are always people who contribute in a multitude of ways, sometimes unwittingly, throughout the journey of discovering the idea to drafting the last word. Watching Glass Shatter has had many supporters since its inception in August 2016, but before the concept even sparked in my mind, others nurtured my passion for writing.

First thanks go to my parents, Jim and Pat, for always believing in me as a writer, as well as teaching me how to become the person I am today. Their unconditional love and support have been the primary reason I'm accomplishing my goals. Through the guidance of my extended family and friends, who consistently encouraged me to pursue my passion, I found the confidence to take chances in life. With Winston and Ryder by my side, I was granted the opportunity to make my dreams come true by publishing this novel. I am grateful to everyone for pushing me each and every day to complete this first book.

Watching Glass Shatter was cultivated through the interaction, feedback, and input of several beta readers. I'd like to thank Cammie Adams and Kourtney Daugherty for providing insight and perspective during the development of the story, setting, and character arcs. They read several different versions, giving a tremendous amount of their time to help me draft this book over several months. The extended beta reading team, who read a complete version of the novel and provided many suggestions and corrections, also deserve my appreciation: Nicki Kuzn, Becki Silver, Linda Stevenson, Chanel Carter, and Suryasol. I am thankful to a few kind folks who also read many chapters providing helpful comments and ideas that enabled me to refine characters and plot lines: Lisa, Robyn, Cimone, Lina, and Louise.

I'd also like to thank author Melanie Mole for introducing me to my publisher, Next Chapter. Without Melanie's generosity, I would not have launched this book. I am also honored to be part of the Next Chapter team and enjoy working with everyone in this company. Thank you to them for printing Watching Glass Shatter and making this lucky guy a published author.

Prologue

Six Years Ago

Ben uncrossed his legs and hunched forward. Wobbly knees trembled under the mahogany desk as he fought to suppress his plaguing nausea.

“Do you have any specific instructions for how I should handle the matter?” Ira Rattenbury's mellow voice echoed off the thin, panel-covered walls of an office hiding in Brandywine's downtown historic square.

“I hoped you might have a solution. This was a tough decision.” Ben lifted his head from a determined stare at the envelopes he'd dropped on the desk. Uncertain how to broach a troublesome topic, he removed and cleaned his wire-framed spectacles and replaced them on his pale and furrowed face, shuddering at the reflection of graying hair at his temples.

“Altering a last will can disturb your long-held confidences in prior decisions. Do the envelopes contain a change to the estate's division among your heirs?” Ira shuffled through the paperwork strewn across his desk.

“No.” Ben inhaled the scent of the sandalwood candle Ira's secretary lit outside the frosted glass office door, its pungent burn reaching his unprepared nose.

Ira's face crinkled. “Did you acquire new assets we need to account for?”

“Nothing since we spoke last year.” Ben's hands pressed atop the leather organizer, tapping an unknown rhythm incapable of soothing the erratic hesitation in his voice.

“I want to do anything I can to help. Maybe you should tell me to whom the envelopes belong. It's quite a fine and delicate parchment, early twentieth century. I'm assuming the contents are of significance.”

“Yes, the stationery was a gift from my wife years ago. I apologize. I don't mean to be unclear. Regret terrorizes even the strongest of men….” Ben flinched while peering out the window at a mother pushing a baby carriage along the main street, unsettled by the grinding whirr of traffic passing by a few feet away. Someone, other than him, needed to know what he'd done all those years ago.

Ben knew it was time to confess his sin, especially after watching so many people ripped from existence around him. His oldest friend recently died of a heart attack on the golf course, mid-swing in front of him, as they finished under par on the last hole. The image of the five-iron and golf ball gliding through the air, both landing several feet away on the dewy grass, as his friend fell to the ground, still haunted Ben. Fear of his own mortality had been cultivated that day.

Ira pushed back his leather seat a few feet, stood, and adjusted the pocket on his linen coat. “I understand your difficulty. If this contains sensitive materials, I assure you, I will personally handle the matter. No one else in my office will know of our conversation.”

A wince formed on Ben's face when the chair's heavy legs scraped across the wooden floor. “Yes, I insist only you administer my estate going forward.” Ben's long fingers waded into the bowl of coins on the desk. “You've a promising future ahead of you, Mr. Rattenbury.”

Ira nodded. “I value our relationship, Ben, if I may. After all these years as your attorney, we should dispense with the formalities.” He handed Ben a glass of aged brandy from the thick crystal decanter sitting on his marble sideboard. The intoxicating smell lingered in his nose before descending upon the rest of the tiny office.

Ben accepted the tumbler with tense, whitened knuckles and swallowed a healthy pour. The warm liquor soothed him as he pushed the chair further back from the desk. “Yes, please call me Ben.” He stood and walked toward the arched window, focused on the narrow floor-to-ceiling corner bookshelf. His fingers traced the crackled spines of the law books. “I knew the day would come when I needed an ally I could trust, someone removed from my family who wouldn't… hold an obligation… to reveal my indiscretion to them.”

Ira nodded, swallowed the remains of his drink, and sat in his chair. “Tell me what's troubling you, Ben.”

“Both Olivia's and my parents have passed away in the last few years. I've inherited responsibility for this family as its new head.” As he paused between thoughts, Ben listened to the wind's hollow interruption whipping through the covered porch outside the glass panes. “I need to face the consequences of a decision made many years ago. Perhaps in the future, I'll want to tell them myself, but for now, my family will better handle the news if I'm already dead and buried.”

Ben shared his story with Ira, who offered a smile when Ben seemed unable to summon the proper words. “I will do my best to handle this exactly as you wish.”

By the end of their conversation, Ben grew confident he'd chosen the right man to administer his last wishes. “I appreciate your discretion in this matter. Besides delivering these envelopes upon my death, I have one more task which requires your assistance.”

“Certainly.”

Ben removed from his coat pocket a piece of paper containing a name and thrust it toward Ira. Dogging remorse and pain percolated within his hand's visible tremor.

Ira studied the translucent parchment. “Who is Rowena Hector?” A dutiful concern in his voice pled with Ben for a deeper explanation.

Ben turned away from Ira, unwilling to let him see the salty drops materialize in his eyes. “You must learn everything you can about Rowena upon my death, and not beforehand. I expect Olivia will ask for guidance based upon what I revealed in the letters. Please convey this decision tortured me for years, and that I struggled with choosing the coward's way out.”

Chapter 1 – Ben & Olivia

Present, Memorial Day Weekend

Sitting in the backseat of his steel-gray Mercedes-Benz sedan, Ben switched the mobile phone to his other ear and removed the seatbelt out of his way, loath to strap himself in for any length of time. When its band rested tightly across his chest, he struggled to breathe, preferring instead to trust in his long-time chauffeur's driving abilities more than a piece of nylon fabric hinged to a pulley. “I'm in the car heading toward you. I should arrive in twenty minutes.”

“Still happily married to the woman of your dreams?” Olivia's lyrical voice echoed on the phone.

“Ah, my beautiful Olivia. The last forty years have been amazing. There's so much ahead of us and still to come.”

“I love you more than yesterday.”

“But not as much as tomorrow.” He played along, enjoying their frivolous banter.

“Please get to the party soon. It's not any fun when I'm dancing a rumba by myself. Remember when we crashed into the instructor while taking those silly dance lessons, and she yelled at us for being fools? Oh, I never laughed so hard.”

“Ha, yes! We are quite the pair. No wife of mine should ever dance alone. At least not while I can prevent it.” Ben glanced through the car window, surprised by the speed of the muddy water cascading down the mountains as his chauffeur took the exit to their country club in Brandywine, Connecticut. “I believe tonight is the first time the entire family has been together since last Christmas. Am I right?”

“Yes, they're all here now reminding me so much of the you I remember from our early days.” Olivia sighed and waited for Ben to respond.

Ben's thoughts drifted while lightning crackled in the sky, and rain pounded the black-tarred roads around him. “Time flies by too quickly, Olivia.”

“You've got a few months left, then you'll retire and have nothing but time to be a grandfather and a father doling out advice. Even if they don't want to listen to us. They never do, do they? Wishing you could turn back the clock. At least we can finally take our trip to Europe….” She paused, uncertain where he'd gone. “Are you still there, Ben?”

Ben snapped from the storm's hypnotic trance upon hearing Olivia's rising voice. “I'm sorry. Recalling their antics over the years distracted me. I don't know how we survived five boys.”

Ben heard her beautiful snicker–about to tell Olivia he loved her–when the car swerved as it neared the last exit on the slick asphalt curve, unaware traffic had come to a full stop ahead. He dropped the phone from the unplanned change in direction, grabbed it from under the front passenger seat, and raised his head.

Ben's heartbeat and breath paused significantly longer than usual, enough to recognize the encroaching overpass column directly in his purview and to accept the impending fate laid before him.

Whoever said life flashed before one's eyes in your final moments never lived to truly describe it. In Ben's case, although they only lasted ten explosive seconds, those moments included all sixty-nine years of his existence, each image punctuated by a blinding burst of pure white light and deafened by the harsh snapping sound of an old-time camera shutter.

CRUNCH. Grinding squeal. Bright light glimmers in a dark vacuum.

The enchanting depth of Olivia's cerulean blue eyes the night they first met at the opera. Their wedding day when he truly understood what it meant to find one's soulmate.

SNAP. Utter blackness, followed by a perforated vibrant glow.

The Thanksgiving feast spent at the hospital when his sister-in-law, Diane, broke her foot trying to avoid dropping the turkey on Bailey, their ten-year-old Shiba dog. Seeing his granddaughters nestled in tiny pink blankets when his sons brought them home the first day.

POP. Sharp, dark void. High pitch release of pressure, then a translucent, shining flicker.

The white-water rafting adventure on the Snake River in Yellowstone National Park where his boys rescued him from falling into the cold water only to stumble upon an angry moose searching for dinner. The final family portrait taken the prior year when everyone wore shades of black and white for a retro-style Christmas card setting.

BOOM. Screeching whistle. Bright light fades to total darkness.

The parchment letters which held the secret he kept from Olivia, pawned off on his attorney to handle once anxiety and fear defeated any chance of Ben telling his wife the truth in person.

The car hydroplaned atop a few inches of the warm, pooling rain and crashed into the steel overpass. The collision immediately torpedoed him through the front windshield, shattering what was the well-lived but haunted life of Benjamin Glass.

A final burst of the bulb's filament into jagged shards.

* * *

Despite Olivia's tendencies to lead and control, she'd little ability to plan Ben's funeral services on her own. Diane recognized her sister's fragile grip on reality teetered on the edge, volunteering to go with Olivia to the funeral home to manage most of the phone calls, selections, catering, and organizing.

Choosing Ben's burial clothing served as the only funeral activity Olivia handled with no help. After pocketing an hour's worth of sleep and waking up alone the morning after the accident, she accepted his death was anything but a dream. The restless night highlighted a comfort she didn't know how much she had relied until stolen by fate. Olivia thrust her tired body out of their bed, walked to the closet, and pushed a slew of hangers across the sleek metal rod, reminiscing while passing each suit as though every year of their lives disappeared before her weary eyes. She searched for the one he'd worn to the Met's opening opera the prior year. After weeks of shopping that summer, she'd finally convinced him to expand his horizons with a new designer, selecting a modern-cut, three-button black wool suit adorning him better than any other had fit in the past. Even Ben had admitted she chose correctly. And he'd rarely admit so, given she'd lord it over him, teasing Ben for days. They enjoyed their game of one-upmanship over the years, but now, days later, she knew it was lost forever.

The final burial service ended thirty minutes earlier, and although everyone else had left, she stayed behind for her own last goodbye. Olivia's memory focused on the somber tones that had serenaded the lowering of Ben's casket six feet into the ground. Once the skirl of the bagpipes blasted its sorrowful resonance, Olivia, standing a few feet from Ben's freshly open grave, could no longer thwart the wrecking ball that planned to decimate any remaining strength. The slow, melodic sound sliced away at the newly loosened threads once tasked with keeping her heart intact and sheltered from acknowledging a widow's pain. Her battered eyes betrayed any remaining fortitude she'd stored deep within her body, and as the chords of “Amazing Grace” resounded from the chanter pipe, the cords of her soul, once intricately woven into Ben, ripped from Olivia's chest. The flood of tears from her stinging red eyes trailed her cheeks as she walked to the car, leaving behind a single set of prints that marked an unknown future.

As she stepped off the cemetery's grassy path, she pulled a black cashmere sweater closer toward her shivering skin to halt the biting frost growing deep within her bones. Ben always said her genuine beauty glimmered when she wore black and gray, complimenting her on the elegant silhouette against her ivory skin and dark sable hair. She kept her shiny locks shoulder length, usually tied back with a clip, and although gray had appeared the last year, the varying shades were regal and striking on her patrician face.

Olivia pressed her palm to her chest and lowered her head until she'd emptied a few layers of grief. She opened the car door and slid across the back seat next to Diane.

All that remained before her impending post-Ben world began was to tell her driver he could leave the cemetery, but uttering those words felt impossible. As if Diane sensed the struggle within her sister, she leaned forward and motioned to the driver to start the car, allowing Olivia a few moments to accept the beginning of her new life. While the car served as a false protection from the reality waiting outside the doors to its passengers, it also evoked a budding nostalgia.

“I'm so sorry, Mrs. G. He was a good man.” Victor had been her driver for twenty-five years, carting her to each child's pediatric appointments, all her charitable foundation work, and every dinner with friends and family. “I'll take care of you today, Mrs. G.” He checked the rearview mirror and nodded when he saw Olivia's eyes, a quiet acknowledgment she'd heard his words. They idled in silence as Victor released the brake and inched the car away from Olivia's latest prison.

Olivia and Diane had come from a poor upstate New York family where they shared a bed until they were nine years old, later pushed out of the door to work as housekeepers by age thirteen. Their parents told them only enough money existed for one to go to college, even if they could secure a scholarship to pay for most of it, and Olivia earned the lucky windfall. Diane believed school held no importance to her, appearing content to remain in the slight comforts of her home. Supporting her sister seemed easier for Diane than choosing her own path in life, focusing on anything but what she ought to do for herself.

“It was a beautiful ceremony.” Diane relaxed into the car seat. “The cherry tree you planted alongside the grave was touching, Liv. You've created a lifetime of memories for your family.”

“Is everyone else at the house?” Olivia pressed her fingers to her temple, pacified by the warm blood swimming through each one under her clammy skin.

“Yes, they're setting up lunch. Only your boys will be there. We've spent enough time with friends and neighbors. I even asked George to stay away, so I could help you without worrying about him.”

George, Diane's soon-to-be ex-husband, had attended Ben's funeral service and conveyed his sterile condolences to Olivia. Though he'd been married to Diane for thirty years, George barely knew his wife's family, never having an interest in other people's children nor any of his own. Diane had finally grown tired of his cavalier attitude and vigilant penchant for ignoring their marriage, requesting a divorce earlier that spring.

“That was a good idea. You really should have dumped that unfortunate man years ago.” Olivia placed her hand on Diane's, noticing the age spots more prominently displayed on her sister's than her own. Her voice stammered, but she held firm until finishing her thoughts. “Thank you for everything you've done for me these last few days.”

Despite being a few years younger, most people assumed Diane was at least a decade older than Olivia. She'd grown out her hair the last few years and tightly braided it to her lower back, wearing the same dress as she had to her nephews' weddings and other recent funerals. She hated to spend any time fussing with her appearance. “It's a shame Ben's brother couldn't make the funeral.”

Ben was the youngest of several siblings. When Olivia called her brother-in-law, he could barely even speak on the phone from the impacts of grief and his aging mind. His children stopped in for the wake but chose not to stay for the graveside burial.

“No, his family has withered. Ben only had us left. It's unbearable for our children to go through this agony. You first focus on your own pain, but watching them suffer steals all remaining breaths.”

Diane fumbled with the clasp on her purse and handed Olivia a tissue. “And with no warning. It's awful, but you'll know how to help them through it.”

“I can see the pain in Ethan's eyes, but he's strong and will grieve privately. He'll miss Ben the most. Ethan's always been so focused on spending time with all of us, his grandparents… oh, I can't….” Olivia dabbed her eyes with the tissue.

“It's such a shame to lose his father when he's so close to becoming a doctor. Ben would have been so proud when Ethan fulfills his dreams.”

Olivia nodded. “Matthew had to tell his daughters their grandfather died. They're too young to understand, but it was dreadful for him to show them Ben's casket. He keeps talking about all the father-son weekends fishing and camping at Lake Wokagee. They'd planned another one this summer.”

“They loved those trips. Well, maybe not all of them.”

“That's true. Theodore has alienated himself from us even more than usual the last few months.”

Theodore was Ben and Olivia's eldest son, and though she would always call him by his proper name, everyone else chose Teddy. Ben had groomed him to take over the law practice at the end of the year, coaching his son on how to act as a stronger, more respected leader and to become a less antagonistic man. Teddy's actions were always packaged with a rough edge, and the tone of his words and speech pattern sounded robotic. Although Teddy had shown up to football Sundays and movie nights, interacting with his family always resembled more of an obligation rather than an enjoyment.

The car turned, passing the corner where Ben had always dropped off the boys for the school bus in the morning on his way to work. A few heavy drops fell from Olivia's eyes. She let them roll across her cheeks, reluctant to grant them total control. She imagined Ben lining each son side by side, inspecting his loyal soldiers, and patting their heads as he christened each one ready to begin his day.

“At least Caleb is back for a few more days.” Diane rubbed her sister's shoulder. “You'll get to spend more time with him.”

Caleb had only agreed to attend the anniversary party the prior weekend after much pressure, but he stayed in Connecticut for the funeral to grieve for his father's passing. Olivia once thought Caleb would stay home with her and Ben when they grew older, but she abandoned hope when he disappeared to Maine ten years earlier.

“Caleb's hurting. I know my son. I wish he weren't all alone. He needs someone to lean on… a girlfriend, a wife. The guilt over living so far away must consume him.”

“Caleb is strong like you in so many ways, holding back to protect himself from the intensity of it all. I'm sure he's got friends to look out for him. What about Zach? Are you still worried he's using—”

Olivia interrupted. “He drove back to Brooklyn last night for work. I heard him arrive early this morning. Zachary's actions are always unclear.”

Olivia thought Zach often spiraled out of control when he left his five-year-old daughter in her and Ben's care, unsure of what trouble he'd engaged in. She and Zach hadn't been close during the last few years, and despite a few attempts at a reconciliation, it always proved futile.

“Five boys without a father. We should have had more time.” Olivia leaned forward and reached a hand to the front seat to sturdy herself. Her head sloped toward the floor of the car when her voice cracked.

Diane rested her head on her sister's back. “I know, Liv, but you'll support them. You'll remind them of Ben, and they'll get through their grief. It takes time. Pain is different for everyone. You need to replace it with memories of something positive.”

Olivia summoned remembrances of Ben's marriage proposal, when he'd arranged a private afternoon lunch in the southern nursery of Connecticut's finest botanical gardens. Dressed in a heather gray knee-length chiffon silk dress with sleek embroidered violet straps wrapping around her neck, Olivia meandered the slate steppingstones to a patio shrouded by voluminous twenty-foot cherry trees. Ben stood underneath their cascading flowering branches, shadowed by the umbrella sky of brilliant pink, red, and white hues, holding a single sprig of cherry blossom. On the far corner of the patio, before the grafted trunks of the cherry trees met the pristine, freshly mowed green lawn, a four-piece string orchestra crooned romantic melodies. When Olivia stepped inside the trellised gazebo, she smiled at the fresh-cut lilies, reminiscent of the bouquet he'd brought her on their first official date. A waiter poured them each a glass of Dom Perignon, and as she reached for the champagne, the thick edges of the goblet pressed into Olivia's fingers. She inhaled the scent of the sweet liquor and shivered at the shower of a bubbly effervescence dancing on her face. The quartet played Roberta Flack's “First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.” Ben dropped to one knee. Olivia's hands trembled until Ben took one into his own. As the strings of each instrument blended immaculate harmonies and the musician's lyrics rumbled in the background, the reverberation through the wooden floor of the gazebo poured into her.

Ben's words still fluttered today in Olivia's ears… Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife… to complete the picture of the future I've wanted… ever since the day we met at the opera… even in the car moments after Ben's burial, when realizing she wouldn't ever again see his face.

Olivia acknowledged Diane's comfort with her eyes as the car pulled onto their street. “I'm unsure how to do this… to start a new life without him by my side. We were together for over forty years. The boys have all left home. I'll live here on my own now. I'll eat breakfast alone every morning. I want to crawl into bed and close the door to my new life.” Olivia's breathing quickened as she panicked and shook.

“Calm down, honey. You need to relax and breathe. You're not alone. I'll help every day if you need me. We can stay outside until you're ready.”

Olivia considered her sister's suggestion, wiping tears from her eyes and clutching her chest. Her sanity told her she didn't need to return to the house. Not a single part of her was ready for this new widow phase where she woke and fell asleep alone in the bed she'd shared with Ben for so many years.

“At least this misery ends tomorrow when we read Ben's will and hear his words again. It should offer some closure and help me decide my future path.”

Chapter 2 – Olivia & Ira

Ira would normally hold a client's will reading in his own office, but given this had the potential to wreak havoc, Ira chose what he thought best for Olivia. He'd only met her once when Ben included her in their family's estate planning decisions.

Ben's personal study reminded Ira of his client, given it held an air of old-world charm, historic beauty, and cozy memories. Ira sensed Ben's presence in the room, imagining him with an after-dinner cordial in one hand, a cigar in the other, and a symphony recording playing in the background. To the left, an expansive seating area circled around a beautiful stone fireplace under twelve-foot cathedral-domed ceilings. To the right stood a large traditional oak desk near the over-sized bay windows with an original Tiffany lamp on its corner.

Olivia held a striking yet maudlin pose as she sat upright with her legs angled toward the fireplace, posture clean and crisp with an arch matching the back of her tall, wing-backed leather chair. She held a cup of tea in her hands atop a fine silver-rimmed china saucer and stared calmly at him. Ira assumed she'd been crying recently as her swollen eyes refused to hide behind whatever makeup she'd applied as a wishful cover.

“Mr. Rattenbury, meet my sister, Diane.” Olivia pointed to her left and placed the cup on the table. “It's eleven thirty… we should start.”

Diane poured chamomile and raised the porcelain teapot toward him. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Rattenbury?”

“Yes, how kind of you.” Ira watched the other members of the family take their seats. “I'm pleased you could attend today. Ben included you in his estate, often speaking fondly of you when he'd visit me.”

Diane blushed and handed him the tea. “I'll miss Ben more than I know how to say.”

Teddy, the eldest son, and his wife, Sarah, sat on the couch across from the oak desk. Teddy's hair had turned salt and pepper even though he'd barely entered his early thirties. His wide-set green eyes sparkled when the sunlight blasting through the front window landed on them. Teddy fussed with his collar, settling on leaving the top button open, and his awkward face scowled.

Sarah, thin as a rail, displayed a bird-like appearance. She had ash-blonde hair closely cropped to the sides of her face, a charming southern accent, and almond-shaped green eyes she hid behind. Ira placed her at forty, almost a decade older than her husband, and while some might consider her pretty, she also appeared worn, tired, and faint.

Ira nodded and shook their hands. “Nice to meet you both. You have my condolences.”

Sarah's neck craned forward. “Much obliged.”

Teddy did not respond. A frown still occupied the better half of his face.

Next to Teddy sat Caleb with wavy dark hair and olive skin, different from his parents. Perhaps reminiscent of the relatives in the various family pictures scattered around the room. Caleb's eyes appeared heavy and distant, as though he wished he were anywhere but in that room at that moment. Ira reached a hand toward him. “It's good to meet you. Your father spoke highly of you. I'm sorry we haven't gotten to meet before this weekend.”

Caleb shook his hand with a firm grip, his eyes looking past Ira toward the window. “I appreciate it, Mr. Rattenbury. I'm not home often, but my father mentioned you on our calls.”

Olivia smiled. “Caleb designed this room for his father many years ago. Ben proposed a mid-century modern motif for his study. I never saw the room until finished, but Caleb has always had good judgment. And he loved and respected his father.”

“It's very impressive. You're an architect?” Ira lifted his head.

Matt, walking toward Ira, interjected before Caleb had a chance to respond. “Yes, my younger brother plays with his little drawings all day long. And by younger, I barely mean so by only eleven months, but he never could keep up with me. Right, Cabbie?”

Caleb twitched at his hated nickname, recalling the tortures his brothers inflicted on one another over the years.

Matt was neither tall nor short, but his witty personality and energetic demeanor compensated for his indiscriminate height. He wore brown stubble across his cheeks and well-defined chin, and dark bags loomed under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. “Caleb hates when I call him Cabbie… it goes back to our golf days when he ran up and down the course, trying to catch any player who'd give him a chance at the ball. Breaking news… he never did!” He shook Ira's hand and backed away, his dimples shining far across the room.

Caleb cocked his head, smiling at his brother over the childish banter. “Let it go, Matt. We all know you're the sports hero in the family. No need to overdramatize today.”

Matt crumbled a napkin and threw it with deft expertise at Caleb. “I'm just joshing. It's a grueling day for all of us, Cabbie.” He ran his fingers through his thick chestnut hair, his muscular arms thrown above his head. The napkin landed in Caleb's half-empty glass of seltzer. Matt's fists pounded the chilled air, and he shouted, “Goal,” as the dunk sprayed drops of seltzer and ice across Caleb's perplexed face.

Matt's tone dropped flat when he looked back at Ira. “We appreciate you coming to the house. My wife wandered upstairs with our girls. We thought it best not to have them at the will reading. If we need Margaret, I can run upstairs to get her.”

“No, it's fine. We can talk to her afterward if anything comes up. Ben's will is straightforward when it comes to what he left for everyone.” Ira shifted his weight as he leaned into the desk.

Matt nodded and took a seat after punching Caleb in his right arm—a token of affection or mis-channeled grief.

Ira glanced next at the youngest son, whose youthful glow could challenge any teenager. He had a lanky, wiry frame, bore a thick head of reddish-blond hair, and boasted several freckles on his ruddy complexion. “You must be Ethan. Your father's pride was evident over all the work you've accomplished at the hospital. Boston University, right?”

“Yes, sir. My second year of medical school is almost complete. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rattenbury.” He quickly took a seat on a chair closer to the window, on the far side of the grandfather clock, while his gaze constantly checked on his mother.

Ira's eyes opened wide. “We're missing someone… Zach?”

Olivia's eyes darted around the room. “He was in the hallway a few minutes ago. Let me go check.” She stood and angled toward the door.

Diane placed the teacup back on the table, peering out the double doors, and motioned to her sister. “Liv, he's walking down the stairs. There's no need to search for him.”Zach," she yelled. “We're in the study.”

Zach walked through the open doors with his daughter, Anastasia. “I'm here. No need to find me. I was just checking on my girl.” He picked her up, swinging her from side to side, and she giggled with an innocent laugh. When he put her down, she closed both the doors with a flourish, as though she'd known it was time for privacy.

Zach, clad in acid-wash jeans and a black t-shirt with bare feet and dark wet hair, was ruggedly handsome. He kept a trim beard set across his squared chin and high cheekbones as well as two visible tattoos. One on his arm where an artist had drawn a green and pink vine running from Zach's left wrist up to the back of his neck. On his right forearm, a pair of black and white dice danced, along with a few colored playing cards, the ace and the king of hearts. The red had faded, not unlike many other things in his life.

Olivia's lips pursed as her voice grew harsh. “Zachary, it's not a good idea to have her here with us. Margaret could watch her upstairs with the other girls. Would she mind, Matthew?”

Matt lifted his head. Something he fiddled with in his pocket had been distracting him. He mumbled, “Huh?” as his eyes pressed together, and his neck jutted to the side.

Diane took her grandniece from Zach, gently brushing the girl's wild copper locks while placing Anastasia on her lap. “I'll watch her. There's tea in the pot if you want a cup.”

“It's helpful for her to absorb the family dynamics, Mom.” Zach walked to the sideboard. “No, too hot out for tea. I'm gonna pour a glass of brandy. Anyone else need liquid courage?” he said, carefully emphasizing the word liquid.

Sarah and Teddy exchanged glances, their eyes shifting back and forth across the room.

Olivia kept silent, but Ira assumed by her rising, wrinkling nose, she was ready to summon a rattled angst at her son's behavior.

Ira spoke to clear the strain. “Since we're all here, I can begin.”

“Yes, I agree with you. Thank you, Mr. Rattenbury.” Olivia motioned for everyone else to sit.

Ira stifled a laugh, considering Olivia appeared to view the reading of the will as her marionette show despite knowing he maneuvered the strings for the rest of the afternoon. A few minutes later, Ira completed delivery of the basic premise of the will, when he drafted it, and what the next steps would include. When everyone nodded with their understanding, he continued.

"Let's discuss the specifics of the estate. I will cover a few items we should handle before anything else, for distribution of assets. And now, the following is directly from Ben's will: To my beloved sister-in-law, Diane, I leave the sum of two hundred thousand dollars disbursed as soon after my death as possible. Diane, you have been like my own sister, and you have always taken care of this family as if it were your own. I should take care of you. You need to find happiness. You need to live the rest of your life as you want to live it, not as someone else forces you to do so. Think back to our conversation after your mother died, and you will know what I mean. Do not accept what stands today. Find your own adventure in life."

Diane's eyes welled at the depth of Ben's appreciation for their friendship over the years. She glanced at her sister with eyes, hungry for acknowledgment. “Liv, did you know he was gonna do this?” Her voice strained, and she gently tapped her chest.

Olivia's lips curled in the corners, forming into a gentle smile as her cheeks grew pink. “I did. I didn't know how much, but we wanted to take care of you should anything happen to us. You deserve the opportunity.”

Ethan stepped forward and hugged his aunt. “He loved you. This seems right.”

Diane placed Anastasia on the floor in front, then sat back into the chair, fumbling to find its arms. “Please, continue. Don't mind me.” Her hands clasped together across her mouth and nose. Her eyes darted back and forth across the room, settling on disappearing into the family portrait on the far wall.

Ira nodded and noted he was reading directly from the will again. “To the three charities of Olivia's choosing, I leave the sum of one hundred thousand dollars. Olivia, helping others has always been your passion. You have been a driving force behind so many positive causes. I am confident you will know how to divide this money to benefit the greater good of Brandywine and of Connecticut.”

Olivia nodded, glancing toward the ceiling, her fingers and palm resting on her chest. “Thank you, Ben.”

Ira continued. "For clarity, Ben and Olivia drafted the next piece of the will together, and I assure you they were in full agreement on the following proceedings: For the remainder of my assets, I leave our house and property to my wife, Olivia, to live in and/or use as she decides along with a monthly subsidy to use for any upkeep and maintenance, contingent upon Olivia or a member of the family retaining ownership of the property. We have set aside the subsidy payments for a ten-year period. For any investments, cash, and/or equity to our names, we shall equally divide them with fifty percent allocated for Olivia and fifty percent divided equally between each of my five sons, thus being ten percent each."

Ira stopped speaking while his eyes swept across the room. The lack of shocked expressions assured him they'd expected this division of assets. “As of earlier this month, the total monetary value of these assets, which we will divide as previously noted, equals twenty million dollars, meaning Olivia will inherit ten million, and each of the boys will inherit two million dollars, net of taxes, payable within the next two months as I liquidate the accounts.”

Olivia broke the silence in the room. “Boys, your father and I considered putting the money in a trust for when each of you turned forty, but ultimately decided to release it while you are younger and can enjoy it.”

Each of the five boys managed some form of a nod. Ira knew from his many conversations with Ben they'd all been careful with money. Even though the family had grown further apart over the years, this was the fair approach.

Olivia nodded. “Good. We have enough money to take care of ourselves and families. We were lucky, and he was a remarkable husband and father to do this for us. Please continue, Mr. Rattenbury.”

“As always, you're a shining example of grace, Mrs. Glass. Yes, to continue, the next discussion includes the law practice Ben owned along with his two colleagues, Mr. Jason Wittleton and Ms. Nora Davis. For those who are unaware, Ben had sixty percent ownership in the law practice, and his two partners each owned twenty percent. They are minority owners but are comfortable abiding by the terms set forth in this will regarding Ben's interests. Ben had been transitioning the firm to his eldest son, Teddy, with plans to transfer the daily administration by the beginning of the new year. Should Teddy continue to assume full responsibility for the daily administration of the firm, he will represent the sixty percent majority of the Glass family's share, making the firm's decisions; however, he should divide any of the firm's profits among all five children. Given Teddy will handle the running of the firm, he will inherit twenty percent and the remaining four sons will each inherit ten percent, disbursed annually by the firm's accountant. Should Teddy decide not to keep leadership, the first right of purchase goes equally to the two co-partners. Ben hoped the firm would stay in the family, but he recognized circumstances could change. He wanted provisions in either case. Do you have questions?”

Matt spoke up, clearing his throat and puffing his chest. “Since I handle the accounting for the firm, I can explain any details you need. But I've got this one in the bag. I've already spoken with Mr. Wittleton and Ms. Davis, and they understand we need time to process and decide on any changes.” His hands moved as he talked, as though his excitement and pride fought for the top-dog trophy. “They trust me to handle daily operations. We've been paying profits from the firm annually, usually in February. It's a minor adjustment if we're only changing the percentages and not selling. We're golden.”

Olivia interrupted, her voice cutting through a growing tension. “Of course, we're not selling. Theodore has wanted to follow in his father's footsteps since he was a young child. Within a few weeks, he will assume leadership with his new partners' guidance expected from time to time.”

Teddy's grim expression, as if he'd grown discontented in the conversation, captured Ira's attention.

Sarah, upon noticing her husband hadn't responded, chimed in. “I reckon y'all need a lil' time to figure this out.” She bristled with a nervous energy, her pallor suddenly a bluish green.

Teddy nodded in agreement. “Yes, we'll address it soon. There is no need to get into those details today. Let's move along, please.”

Sarah and Zach locked eyes. She reached her hand to Teddy's shoulder, but his entire upper body flinched upon contact.

Zach rubbed his hand across his stomach as a nerve in his left forearm sharply twitched, waking the vines crawling on his skin. He stood to pour a second brandy, shaking his head the entire time he walked over to the sideboard.

Olivia cleared her throat. “Do you need another one right now, Zachary? It's not even noon.”

“Yes, Mom, I do. It's been a long day. I rarely hear my father's will being read, thank you very much.” He dropped two ice cubes in the art deco glass and swiftly swallowed. “Good stuff, Dad.” He toasted with a flick of his hand toward Ben's desk.

Olivia summoned Ira's attention. “Do you have anything else we need to discuss right now? Or should we take a few days regarding next steps and reconvene as a family at the end of the week?”

Caleb jumped up, his voice cracking as he spoke. “Mom, I need to get back to Maine soon. I can't stay through the end of the week.”

Before Olivia could respond, Diane chimed in. “Let's not worry about it right now. Today's an exhausting day. There's way too much for any of us to get through in one sitting. We'll figure it all out.”

Olivia nodded at Diane, appearing grateful to her sister for holding the peace.

Matt agreed. “I need to check on the Yankees game. They should play any minute. Time to kick your boys' asses, Ethan.”

Ben had once told Ira about the long-standing rivalry over which of Matt's and Ethan's teams would win each season; it covered all the major sports and created many fierce battles of loyalty across the family. The Glass men had been solid supporters of all the New York teams, but when Ethan moved to Boston, his allegiance went with him, as did their father's.

Ethan smiled. “Red Sox rule. No chance for the Yanks, brother.”

Matt and Ethan stood, assuming the will reading had ended. Both walked by the sofa and were about to open the doors to exit. Matt had his hands pressed to Ethan's shoulders, either to jump on him or hug him.

Ira couldn't decide what Matt would do, but he had expected no trouble up to this point with Ben's requests. The next part had kept him awake the last three nights, preparing for a potential confrontation. His palms grew sweaty despite the years of experience he had in delivering difficult news. Ben had become a friend the last few years, and Ira experienced more empathy for the Glass family than for other clients. He cleared his throat and steadied his hands on the desk.

With eyes focused on Matt and Ethan, he spoke. “We have one more matter to discuss. Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind sitting for a little longer. I have a final message your father asked me to oversee.”

“You need me to stay, too?” Matt questioned Ira as he slid the phone back into his pocket, his lips pursed and dismayed. His ample sigh perforated the room.

Ira nodded at Matt, noticing Olivia's head tilting in his direction.

Olivia's lips formed into a narrow slit. Her eyes pierced at him as sharp lasers penetrate the fog. “Mr. Rattenbury, we've covered the house, the estate, the law practice, and the charitable donations. What else do we have to review?”

Ira withdrew two envelopes, leaned toward Olivia, and placed them in her trembling hands. “We need to discuss these, Olivia. Ben wrote them a few years ago, and he asked me to deliver them in the event of his death.”

Ira's eyes glanced across the rest of the room with a determined focus. “But he clearly specified what he wrote in these letters does not change the terms of his will. He explicitly wanted them handed out after the will reading concluded.”

The grandfather clock loomed in the background, the noon hour arriving with the loud crash of twelve cymbals. Olivia's skin blanched an unnatural shade of white. She clutched her chest, and the jitter of her legs caused the teacup to rattle against the saucer.

“Do you need a glass of brandy, Mom?” Zach took the teacup from her hands.

Olivia sighed. “Yes, I would like one now. Thank you.” Her hands rested atop her knees to steady them.

Zach poured two fingers of Remy Martin, dropped off the glass in her stiff hands, and moved toward Diane to retrieve his daughter. “Interesting. Open them, Mom. Maybe Dad's got another son who's planning to knock on the door.”

Olivia dropped the glass, already empty of its contents which had begun settling her nervous stomach. Her rapt eyes followed the glass as it rolled across the carpet, landing at Ira's feet.

Diane lunged, offering her sister a cocktail napkin. “Zach, don't say such a thing. Your father would never cheat on her.”

“I was only kidding, trying to lighten the mood in here. We all know how much he loved her. My bad. He didn't keep secrets from us. From you.”

Olivia collected the glass and dabbed at the brown and green basket weave carpet with the napkin—her eyes and hands deeply focused on the task. “Of course not. I knew you were joking. It shocked me, that's all. Please explain, Mr. Rattenbury. This is unexpected.” While she controlled her quaking legs, her neck and head still faltered.

Ira continued. “Yes, prior to opening the envelopes, please let me provide a few more details. Several years ago, Ben arranged a meeting with me to discuss an amendment he wished to include in his estate. Ethan, you'd recently graduated from high school and Olivia, yours and Diane's mother had just passed away. Ben spoke about the importance of family and how ensuring you all knew how much he cared for you directed his every decision. He handed me these two envelopes. One belongs to you, Olivia.” He paused, encouraging himself to say the final words. “And one belongs to his son.”

The room was silent for fifteen seconds until Teddy clenched his jaw and interjected. “Don't you mean sons? He has five sons.”

Ira waited a moment to allow the family time to react but had no choice not to continue, as all eyes focused upon him—some with doubt, others with a discerning glower. “He meant son. Even I do not know specifically what he wrote in these letters. He asked me to deliver the first one to Olivia. When she finishes reading the letter, she will know what to do with the second one.”

Zach's eyes rose, and his cheeks lifted with each word. “But which son? Mom, open the envelope. This makes little sense.”

Ethan remained silent. A hint of a boyish smile, full of innocence and adoration, focused on his mother.

Matt sent a text message, holding extraordinarily little interest in the discussion.

Teddy spoke, dismissing everyone else's input. “What silliness. Our father didn't play games. What purpose does this business about final letters serve, Mr. Rattenbury?” Teddy shifted his lower jaw, his teeth scraping against one another and sharpening for a readied feast.

Ira chose not to reply, hoping Olivia would know how to control her son.

Caleb stood and shuffled to the window with hunched shoulders. He appeared angry or afraid of the contents of the second envelope. His eyes pressed tightly, and his lips mumbled incoherently.